The Ghost Of Me
 

Writhing 'neath the prairie sod
Daffodils defy the odds -
Odd, it seems - they do not know
The world ended some time ago.
 
They fight their hidden battle,
Just beneath the earth
Spared my special knowledge:
They never will have birth.
 
How strange it is: the world goes on:
Light from a star burned out:
A dream that still continues
Too ingrained to doubt.
 
And I remain to watch them:
A ghost that walks in strife.
A ghost that keeps returning
Assuming it has life.
 
With baleful eyes I look upon
A world that doesn't know it's gone.

 
  Judy Gaile Burgess
 
Copyright © 2001 Judy Gaile Burgess
 
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